


Their First Gyftmas

by Kinksoot



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Illustrations, M/M, Other, Past Relationship(s), Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29487216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinksoot/pseuds/Kinksoot
Summary: Error is invited to his first Gyftmas with Ink and his family.Modern Setting... and they wereRoommates!
Relationships: Error/Ink
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	1. Ink's Roommate

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended to be a oneshot but it was getting too long. So... a three-parter, I believe.   
> Rating changed for mentions of adult themes later on. Just to be safe.  
> See end notes for details on progress and illustrations.

Ink glanced up from his canvas to his loft at the sound of something hitting the floor. The blue and white privacy curtains were closed and had been for days. Curiosity ate away at Ink but his roommate warned against peeking before he finished wrapping tomorrow’s Gyftmas presents. 

Gyftmas is a monster celebration inspired by the human's holiday of Christmas. However, unlike Christmas, Gyftmas has no set date for celebrating. Instead, monsters celebrate giving gifts and uplifting spirits whenever there’s a need for it. 

Dream came to Ink a month ago with plans to host a Gyftmas party for close friends and family. Since becoming a licensed psychiatrist, Dream had taken to throwing these uplifting parties rather frequently. 

Not that Ink minded an excuse to create gifts for others. Since they often discouraged him from gifting too often or freely. His works could be overwhelmingly large, taking up too much space in his friends’ homes. Something Ink understood a bit better now that he’d lost the convenience of his loft for storing his projects and supplies.

Ink felt his attention wandering from the canvas in front of him to the ones scattered all over the floor. Art supplies and a few other projects were piled against the walls and on the sofa. The only clear space on the main floor of Ink’s apartment drew his gaze down a path. From the loft to the balcony, and finally, to the kitchen.

Eyelights lingering on the kitchen, Ink felt his magic stir. Though neither skeleton living in the apartment needed food often, with their higher than average magic levels, consistent meals helped keep those levels stable and healthy. In the past, before moving into his own apartment, his former foster brother Blue had been the one to ensure Ink never forgot to eat. He would even barge into the dorm room Ink shared with Dream to drag him to the dining table.

A snort of laughter escaped the artist at the memory of one particular time when Blue had barged in on Dream and Ink getting dressed. The psychiatry major’s fully exposed bones had shone bright yellow from embarrassment. Dream was so flustered that he threw a pillow hard enough to knock the poor skeleton out cold.

Blue had been as bright as his namesake when he came to, apologizing profusely for his intrusion. Ink hadn’t cared about much but how the yellow magic nicely highlighted Dream’s bone structure and how he wished he could have painted it. Though he did manage to sneak a few sketches later.

The memory of painting brought his mind back to the easel before him now. It was the last Gyftmas project to be finished, intended for his roommate. It was nearly finished but Ink still needed to add some texture and finishing details before signing and sealing. The paint on his brush was already starting to dry.

Apparently, he’d been distracted longer than expected. The daylight shining in finally faded to dusk. There were few clouds drifting over the skylight above which meant tonight would be good for stargazing. It was one of his roommate’s favorite past times.

Something which had surprised Ink. The grouchy computer programmer never seemed the type to lie outside for hours for a good view of starry skies. Ink had found many things fascinating about his classmate. The day he finally agreed to move into Ink’s loft had probably been one of the best days of the artist’s life.

Even though his roommate was notorious as one of Ink’s harshest critics and for his prickly personality. 

The programmer’s open animosity was why Dream had avoided him while they’d all attended the same community college.

However, it seemed that Dream had since changed his mind. Seeing as he had specifically requested that Ink bring his roommate along to the party. It was unlike his friend to change his mind on who was worth sharing his personal time with. Not because Dream thought less of them, per se, but because of his sensitivity to negative emotions.

As much as Ink cared for his roommate, he had to admit that he was full of negativity. Which further puzzled Ink as to why Dream extended the invitation to his roommate. Perhaps Blue was able to change their former foster brother’s mind. Seeing as the cheerful life coach had been friendly with the grouchy programmer since high school. Another thing Ink was dying to discover; how Blue had met his much older roommate before they attended the same college.

Ink was jarred from his thoughts by yet another loud noise from behind those privacy curtains. He hopped off his stool and set about wrapping his paints to keep them from drying out further. There was no way he could paint with such a distracted mind. It didn’t help that his muse had been hiding in his room all day and rarely left while working on his own presents for the Gyftmas party.

The artist was somewhat grateful for the other’s reclusive nature which left Ink free to work on his projects without worrying about hovering dormmates. Though he did carefully cover the canvas with a sheet to keep the painting a surprise, should he succeed in coaxing his roommate down to watch the stars.

Ink made his way upstairs, making his steps heavy and loud. The more warning he had, the better his mood was likely to be by the time Ink reaches the top.

He poked the wireless doorbell they had affixed to the wall at the top of the stairs, hearing the familiar melody from the back of the loft. There was silence after it, causing a frown to cross the artist’s face. It seemed his roommate was wearing his noise-canceling headphones again or else outright ignoring the tone. So Ink rang the bell again and again until he heard the promising thud of a skeleton hitting the ground.

“You okay, Ruru?” Ink stifled a snicker just as the curtain was ripped aside to reveal the bare black and red bones of his visibly irritated roommate. 

“What do you want, Ink?” He spat through yellow teeth, mismatched eyelights glowing with his red sockets.

“Is this a bad time?” Ink teased playfully as he spotted the smear of blue magic against the other’s bare thigh bones, “I thought you were still wrapping gifts.”

“I don’t procrastinate like you,” the other replied smugly as he crossed his arms. “Now what’s so important that you've decided to interrupt my ‘me time’?”

Ink blinked as he realized he had no answer for Error’s inquiry. Which the other seemed to understand, exhaling what remained of his aggravation before he shifted to lean his naked bones against the wall. He looked down on the shorter skeleton while he recollected his scattered thoughts.

The hyper skeleton was easily distracted and his short-term memory suffered as a result. Error also had issues with his own memory, as Ink had found out before inviting him to live in his loft. Though his were long term and circumstantial. 

Ink brought his hand to his chin, pulling his gaze away from the distractingly tasteful posture Error was holding. The clear path caught his eye and helped him trace his own path. The sunlight was gone and his easel covered, meaning he decided to take a break from his roommate’s gift for some reason.

“Wanna stargaze?” He spouted the first thought that came to mind.

Error merely quirked a brow before glancing out the balcony door. He hummed thoughtfully but then dropped his eyelights back to the artist’s face. “I don’t feel like getting dressed for the balcony. That and I _was_ in the middle of something.”

“Oh,” Ink blinked, eyelights cycling through a variety of shapes and colors. He wasn’t sure how he was feeling, but Error left him no time to reflect, stepping back behind his privacy curtain. Disappointment was what he settled on, but then the curtains shifted.

Error stepped out in his fluffy red and black house robe, headphones back over his head and hands shoved into his pockets. A wide grin split Ink’s face before he hopped onto the stair banister to slide down to the main floor. He heard Error click his tongues at the childish action before shuffling slippered feet down the steps after him.

“We should probably eat something.” Error’s unique tone was thoughtful and Ink looked back to see him staring into the kitchen.

“Ah-hah!” Ink smacked his forehead, startling his roommate (who quickly recovered his apathetic mask). “ _That’s_ what I was gonna ask you!” He hurried through the doorway and opened the fridge, “I don’t think any of dads’ leftovers are left over.”

Error snorted, going to his own personal cabinet, well above Ink’s reach. Before he could reach into the cabinet, the artist pulled a container full of colorful mush from the fridge.

“All I found was this… um,” Ink studied the contents uncertainly when Error’s yellow-tipped finger tapped a label on the lid. 

“That’s for the party, moron.”

“Oh. Yeah,” the triumphant grin fell, “I didn’t even see the note.” His roommate huffed and then Ink snapped his fingers as an idea came to mind, “But we can order out!” 

The artist patted the pockets of his overalls, “Um…”

“Forgot your phone at school again?” Error guessed, rolling his mismatched eyelights. 

Before Ink had time to respond, a gaudily decorated device was already being withdrawn from the kitchen cabinet.

It was Ink’s backup phone, which had been entrusted to the programmer for such occasions. “You’re buying…”

“Thanks,” Ink laughed sheepishly, holding his hands out, “Burgers from Grillby’s?”

He was pleasantly surprised when the phone was not simply dropped for him to catch. Rather, his touch-averse roommate gingerly placed the small phone against his palm instead.

“Yeah,” the programmer went back to the cabinet to pull out a bar of his third favorite chocolate and a small box, “don’t forget my chocolate shake.”

“Of course not!” Ink could actually remember the last time he had forgotten the shake. 

Never again.

“Good,” Error gave Ink a lazy grin before further surprising him by stepping close enough to slip his hands--and the small box--into the back pockets of Ink’s overalls.

“Stole this for you,” he stepped back, slipping those now emptied hands into the pockets of his robes, “don’t use it all at once this time.”

Ink felt a rush of excited curiosity at the other’s unusual mood and pulled the box from his pocket, filling him with affection for Error at the sight of the food dye. “You’re the best.”

“Damn right,” he replied without missing a beat and then turned towards his room. “Let me know when the food gets here and not before.”

The artist hummed in acknowledgment, dialing the number for Grillby’s bar. Ink watched his roommate pull the robe off on his way up the stairs until the call was answered. Not wanting to risk forgetting the order, he turned away from any potential distractions and placed their usual order.

He had ten minutes to set the balcony up for stargazing with Error before the food would arrive. Ink hurriedly threw open the sliding glass doors, letting in the chilly night air. Skeletons were unphased by cold or heat. However, since joining human society, many skeletons began dressing to fit in and even developed a sense of comfort doing so.

Ink loved winter because of all the layers he could get away with wearing. The more layers he had, the more he was able to express himself. Error was not so concerned with fashion, preferring to dress for comfort. He even tended to wear the same outfit every day, no matter the weather. 

The apartment’s intercom buzzed, signaling that their dinner had arrived, just as Ink had set out their lounge chairs. The artist passed the loft, relieved to see Error had pulled the curtains open some.

“Delivery from Grillbs, fresh hot burgs.” A familiar voice greeted Ink once he reached the intercom.

“Come on up, Sans.” Ink replied cheerily, giving his permission.

The delivery skeleton vanished from the camera and a ‘pop’ sounded outside the front door to the apartment. The artist opened the door and searched the pockets of a black and blue jacket hanging nearby for his wallet. The smiley skeleton on the other side watched, a tray of steamy burgers resting on his head and chilly milkshakes in either hand.

“Heh, isn’t that your mate’s jacket?” Sans observed, “Didn’t seem like the sharing kind.”

“Mate?” Ink blinked in confusion, pulling his colorful wallet from Error’s jacket. “You mean my roommate, Error?”

“That his name?” Sans held a milkshake out to trade it for the artist’s money, “I first met him in an alley, ya know. Always thought he was homeless. Imagine my surprise when he answered the door to this ritzy place.”

“He was,” Ink confirmed cheerily. “Which is why he’s living with me now.”

“Neat.” Sans remarked and pocketed the money, “Enjoy the burgs and shakes on me.”

Ink laughed, collecting the food from the tray atop Sans’ head in his free hand. He tucked his Neapolitan milkshake in the crook of his elbow and grabbed Error’s chocolate shake. His hands now free, Sans threw up finger guns and then walked out of view, empty tray still balanced on his head.

“Is he gone?” Error’s voice drifted from the balcony, drawing Ink outside.

The programmer was crouching in the corner of the balcony, wearing a tattered white shirt and grey sweats. They had been from the foster system before Ink had been taken in by Blue’s family alongside Dream. He had been glad to finally get rid of them.

“Yup!” He held out the chocolate milkshake, “What are you doing down there? No one’s gonna see us this late, all the way up here.”

“I can see just fine,” Error puffed, snatching his milkshake without leaving his corner.

“The chairs are comfier.”

Ink shrugged, plopped down onto one of the reclined chairs, and unwrapped his burger. Error scowled, holding out his free hand for his own burger. The artist merely smirked in response, setting the burger on the other chair. Error grumbled but got up from his corner to join his roommate. They ate in silence for a moment. Which was rare, as Ink loved to talk.

“Did you finish my gift yet?” Error asked suddenly.

“Your gift?” Ink looked away from the stars in surprise. “No, I’ll have to work on it through the night.”

A disappointed hum from Error confused Ink, but his face gave nothing away and nothing more was said. At least until after the food was finished and Error began his usual habit of pointing out various constellations in the sky.

Ink wished that he could have stayed with Error all night and, for a moment, wondered if his roommate felt the same.

* * *


	2. Meeting the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for the roommate to meet the family...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and all the comments so far. <3 I'm excited to conclude this.

Error tapped his foot impatiently, bundled in one of the coats he’d stolen from Ink’s vast wardrobe. Though his old jacket was much more comfortable, this Gyftmas party’s attendees were rich and fashionable. While he usually didn't care, being stared at for the way he dressed could get annoying. He much preferred the curious and admiring gaze of his moronic roommate...

The same roommate that was now scrambling around the cluttered living room, looking for his other boot. The artist had passed out on the porch before he could finish Error’s gift, forcing him to work on it as soon as he woke up, outside and alone. They were now running late for the party, much to Error’s chagrin.

“This is why I don't like collaborating with you.” He couldn’t help but quip when Ink finally found his boot under some scrapped canvas in front of the buried loveseat. “You’re messy and a notorious procrastinator.”

“We still got the best grade on our final web design.” Ink shot back, hopping around carelessly while he laced the boot’s rainbow strings.

“Only because I hacked the system and forced a deadline extension.” Error snorted, checking his phone for the time. He had already loaded Ink’s van with fifteen of their sixteen gifts. “So what about my gift?”

“Drying.” Ink puffed, pulling a hat off a beat-up mannequin propped against a wall.

“So you have nothing for me for the party?” Error grumbled, “What will Dream think?” Ink blinked quizzically, forcing him to clarify, “If we’re missing a gift.”

“He shouldn’t care,” Ink cheered, “as long as we’ve got gifts for him, Blue, and the kids. Besides,” he let out a sheepish laugh, “he probably wouldn’t have approved of my gift for you.”

Sharp curiosity cut through Error’s disappointment, “Oh? How so?”

“If I tell you, it’ll ruin the surprise!” He laughed openly now, tapping the side of his nasal cavity. “You’ll have to wait til after the party I guess.”

“Fine,” Error grit out, “then so will you.”

There was a rush of pride from wiping the stupid grin off Ink's smug face. The artist gave an exaggerated pout, stomping past the programmer to throw open the front door. Error snorted in amusement at the childish act and remembered to grab the container of colorful mush from the kitchen counter as he passed it. He closed the door behind him, making sure to lock and arm the apartment.

“Ruru-”

“Don’t. Call me that.” Error cut off Ink’s whine, shoving him against the wall on his way to the apartment’s elevator. “Especially where others could hear.”

“But the kids-”

“Are stupid brats that don’t know any better.” Error repeatedly jabbed the button to close the doors, up until Ink slipped in with him. “Besides, you’re the full-grown asshole that put it in their mind.”

“Then the damage is done and there’s no harm.” Ink leaned into Error’s personal space, but the programmer was grateful to see he respected the no-touching rule. 

And yet, there was also a twinge of disappointment.

“There _is_ harm.” He snapped, poking the puffy coat over Ink’s sternum. “To my image and pride. The nickname is cutesy and childish.”

“Then doesn’t it suit you perfectly?” Ink teased, looking oddly excited despite the threat.

A threat which Ink disintegrated in seconds with such a cheesy compliment. Error’s blue-stained cheekbones flushed with magic as he bit his tongues from acknowledging it. He knew he was cute. Then he recalled his words and his flush turned to one of indignant fury.

“ _You’re_ calling _me_ childish?”

As if to prove Error’s point, the artist stuck out his iridescent tongue before turning his attention to the elevator door. Error rolled his eyelights and propped himself against the back of the elevator, food container in the crook of his arm. He had five more floors to endure cramped quarters that could be invaded by anyone at any moment. No escape.

Each ding from passing floors had him on edge, narrow eyelights snapping from the illuminated numbers to the door. If Ink noticed Error’s increasing unease, he was blessedly silent, save for his humming along to the annoying music playing in the background. It served as a decent distraction, especially when Error became painfully aware of the inch of space between their hands.

The thought of closing that gap should have filled him with disgust or fear. He shouldn’t want to close it at all. But Error was aware of the curiosity just beneath the surface of suppressed feelings. Perhaps he could overcome his haphephobia with Ink’s help. Though he was still reluctant to trust another just yet.

“Do you really hate it so much?” Ink’s sudden inquiry came as they finally arrived in the parking garage. “The nickname?”

Error was struck silent as he pondered over a response while Ink waited in the elevator’s doorway. Error settled on simply looking disgruntled as he brushed past. Three touches in the past couple of minutes, he couldn’t help noting.

“Hey! Wait for me!”

“I tolerate it.” Error uttered when Ink caught up to him, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“Hmn.” Ink hummed, opening his door, “Alright, no more nickname.”

Error snorted doubtfully but said no more as he sunk into the passenger seat and buckled himself in. Ink started his van but had to stifle a laugh when Error’s yellow fingertip jabbed the radio’s power button to silence the artist’s “music”. The programmer pulled one of his own CDs from a case under the seat and dared the other to try and stop him as he fed it into the player. Ink merely chuckled, shook his head, and backed out of their parking spot.

Dream lived in a subdivision just outside the city. Three vehicles were already parked outside the quaint little home, meaning Error and Ink were the last guests to arrive. Once the van was blocking the old junker that belonged to Stretch, Ink turned off the van and turned to study his passenger. The taller skeleton was warily studying the crowded driveway, his social anxiety growing.

“Ready to meet my family?” Ink joked lightly, jolting Error from his spiraling thoughts.

“I’ve already met most of them.” He replied tersely before roughly pushing his door open.

“Spying from the banister doesn’t count.”

Ink skipped to meet Error at the back of the van, his arms held out for the latter to pile on the presents. Though Ink was more than strong enough to carry everything, he was a short and clumsy skeleton. Error stopped stacking at the artist’s nasal cavity and then gathered the remaining few for himself to carry, their food container set on top.

Dream’s bungalow was bright yellow with lush bushes and perennials spattered around a little front porch. The wall by the entrance was decorated with flowers created from skeletal handprints of varying sizes. As Error got closer he recognized names and dates around some of the prints. Ink continued past and, noticing the door was left somewhat ajar, kicked it open with gusto.

“Ink!” An indignant shout came from inside, “if you put another hole in my wall, I swear-!”

“Papa!” A happy squeal cut the threat off as a small skeleton child threw himself at Ink’s legs.

“Hey Pal,” the artist beamed, completely unphased by the impact.

“Palette, we talked about running inside the house.”

The skeleton that came to greet them looked much less cheerful and energetic than when he attended the same college as Ink and Error. Dream had been well known for his brilliant smile capable of uplifting anyone’s mood. Personally, Error thought it had just been flattery from lovestruck fans. Until he met the psychiatrist’s offspring and experienced the magic for himself.

“I’ll take those.” Blue hurried from behind Dream to take the stack of gifts Ink was carrying. The bright mood made his friend’s change even more apparent.

Blue carried the gifts back around the corner he’d come from. With his hands now free, Ink was quick to sweep Palette Roller up and toss him into the air. Dream tensed but Error chastised the artist first.

“Careful, don’t want him ending up as brain dead as his father,” he snarked.

“Dream’s not-”

“Uncle Ruru!”

Palette Roller’s excited shriek interrupted Ink’s jest as he squirmed in his father’s hold, wanting back down. Ink obliged, nearly dropping the excitable child in the process. His starry, yellow-green eyelights shone up at the programmer, completely immune to the grumpy demeanor. Error was spared from the brunt of the child’s contagious positive energy by the sight of a second child floating into the entryway.

“Uncle Ruru?” The white-clad child echoed his friend, staring curiously up at the grouchy black-boned skeleton.

“Just how many uncles do these kids have?” Stretch spoke dryly from where he was propped against the living room’s archway.

“I’m nobody’s uncle!” Error snapped irritably before glaring down at the two young skeletons at his knees. “Did Blue put you up to this or Ink?”

“Well you’re not my daddy and you’re waaay older than papa and daddy,” Palette Roller grabbed his friend’s arm, “Goth said you’re like an uncle. Like Uncle Blue and Uncle Stretch.”

Error resisted his urge to retort that he wasn’t that old. However, he settled with a noncommittal grunt, knowing better than to start an argument with children. It would get him nowhere. His only hope was for them to grow out of using the embarrassing nickname. He stepped carefully around the two children and then slid past Ink to unload his own stack of presents.

Stretch slid back into the living room ahead of Error, not bothering to hide a look of distrust before sinking into a comfortable armchair by the fireplace. The computer programmer was more interested in the room’s decorum. Particularly the giant pine tree dressed with colorful lights and numerous baubles. Error was sure he’d never seen anything like it in real life, and yet, there was a sense of déjà vu. He shook it away before the sensation could distract him from the presents--present.

“Is that food?” Blue popped up from behind the tree, pointing at the container of colorful mush.

“Technically.” Error answered, setting the stack of presents with the large pile around the base of the tree.

“Aster and Gaster can get it ready with the rest of the food.” Blue motioned to the north wall where a kitchen was visible over the counter bar built into the wall.

Two tall skeletons were bustling about on the other side, chatting and laughing together. Error frowned at the sight. The couple often visited the apartment to cook meals for their scatterbrained son.

When the computer programmer stepped through the doorway, into the kitchen, Aster looked up from where he was washing his hands.

“Error,” his husband, Gaster, gestured as though to sweep him into a hug but then, reading Error’s defensive posture, tucked his hands behind his coattails, “so good to finally meet you with your feet on the same floor.”

Error snorted and glared at the wall while presenting the food he brought, “Here. We made potatoes.” The couple exchanged dubious looks before Error assured, “I mashed them myself, your son just added dye.”

“Our son,” Gaster directed a fond smile in the direction of the living room where Ink was chatting enthusiastically to Dream, likely about the decor, “is so creative.”

Error grunted, watching the artist alongside his parents. He and Ink were notorious at college for their arguments of design versus function. However, Error had to admit his roommate was incredibly talented. Though he’d never do so out loud, especially in front of Ink’s obnoxiously doting fathers.

“You don’t have to stay in here with us.” Aster prompted, drying his hands on a floral yellow hand towel. “Why don’t you go rejoin the others?”

“And do what, exactly?” Error groaned, crossing his arms.

“Do?” Gaster laughed lightly, “It’s a party, Ruru,” the frown deepened and the fancy skeleton’s laughter dwindled. “You’ve been to a social gathering before, surely?”

An awkward silence stretched between the trio.

“Not even with your family?”

Error felt his soul quiver from the triggering term, “Don’t have one.”

Aster and Gaster exchanged a pitying look, disgusting Error. “For what it’s worth, we’d be happy to-”

“Don’t.” Error grit out, throwing up his hand to cut them off while the other covered his burning sockets. “I don’t need it. Any of it.”

Before they could fuss over him further, Error turned his back on them. He shoved his fists into his coat pockets and then stomped back into the hall. While he tried to clear his agitated static, he heard Ink’s parents return to their task of preparing the meal. Letting him breathe.

The modulated voice of his therapist soon came to mind, “ **_Relax. Think of something soothing. Like a pleasant memory._ **”

A bitter snort escaped at that, breaking through the static buzz from the glitching skeleton. Error had no pleasant memories. He heard the voice again, a twinge of scolding in the tone now. 

“ **_You didn’t even try looking._ **” The programmer rolled his eyes before glaring down at one of the many photos decorating Dream’s home.

It looked like a much younger Dream, as though he’d gone through an emo phase. Though it was hard to make out much detail since the photo was wrinkled and torn in places. With a face to address now, Error felt confident enough to talk out loud.

“I already told you I don’t care about the past.” He pouted petulantly, folding his arms.

“ **_I’m not asking for a memory from your forgotten past._ **” The voice answered coolly, bringing a scowl to their imaginer’s face.

The photo won the staredown and so Error shifted his eyes to a different photo. Palette Roller’s goofy grin was so much like his father’s. The first time Error saw it had been when the brat was hanging from Ink’s loft, tangled in a ratty old paint tarp. If the computer programmer hadn’t gone to Ink's to collaborate on a school project, Palette Roller’s head would have cracked against the floor. Ink’s rare look of faux concern when Error had come out of his resulting crash from the impact was fresh in his mind now.

Error had been so _angry_. So...

_s_

_c_

_a_

_r_

_e_

_d_

.

“ **_That’s not helping._ ** ” The voice supplied suddenly. “ **_Try another._ **”

Pinpricks sought out a different photo, catching Blue’s visage. It was a photo of him with his younger brother and former foster brothers. Ink and Dream both wore unflattering, baggy clothing--the outfit Error wore just last night. He found that familiar goofy grin again, brighter than the melancholy smile Dream was making and nearly as meaningful as Blue’s.

Error still saw through the mask.

Ink’s best expressions were those he gave Error when they were alone. Or when he laughs during their arguments because something random came to his empty head. 

The burn of his magic diminished by the time he noticed the largest photo canvas above the ‘shrine’ of family photos. The faint smile that snuck its way onto his face fell away. 

Dream and Ink were dressed in fancy looking suits, the former wearing a colorful carnation while the artist pressed his teeth to a bright yellow cheek. It was the happiest that Error had ever seen Dream. Not that he had seen much of the psychiatrist; he avoided doctors.

Error rubbed at the fresh blue magic staining his cheeks, grateful that his static finally cleared, at the very least. Magic buildup was an inconvenience at the worst of times. 

“ **‘** **_Magic buildup’_ ** _,_ ” the voice mocked but Error paid it no mind now. He was done with therapy and glimpsed a nearby mirror. 

Using the end of his old scarf he rubbed at his cheeks to clear any residue and then paused, admiring his reflection. He brought his fingertips to the glass, tracing the curve of his face. An index finger dragged its way to where his teeth gradually revealed themselves with a fond grin.

“Hello cutie,” he winked, only to jump when he heard someone clearing their throat behind him.

Dream stood in the hall between Error and the living room, studying him curiously.

“What do you want?” Error snapped, frustrated by the interruption.

“That’s what I wanted to know,” Dream said, “about you from Ink.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He scoffed, already dreading this conversation--no doubt the dreaded shovel talk common in some of the dramas Error watched. Though he'd expected it from the parents.

“You chose to live with Ink instead of Blue. Why?” 

The question caught Error off-guard.

He tensed up, knuckles flexing, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone knows you hate Ink,” Dream began matter-of-factly.

“Says who?” Error cringed as the outburst turned that interrogative golden gaze into one of thoughtful consideration. Suddenly, he felt the familiar prying magic of an empath. He focused on his aggravation and, for good measure, brought every negative thought he could to the surface of his mind. “Pretty rude, doc. I’m not one of your pathetic patients.” The psychiatrist’s uneasy expression and guilt recovered some of Error’s confidence.

But then Dream had the gall to look sympathetic. “It’s pointless, you know.” Error’s face tightened in a scowl as he continued,“Trying to pursue a relationship with Ink will only lead to heartbreak.”

“Heartbreak?” A disdainful snort escaped the programmer as he let the aggravation rise, “What’s that got to do with me?” Of course, he already suspected what the psychiatrist was implying.

“Look, Error,” Dream sighed, “I’ll admit that I don’t like you much. After all, Ink pulled you out of the gutter.” At the sight of Error about to object, he powered on, “Stretch told me how you really met Blue. Don’t bother trying to defend yourself. I strongly believe that people can change for the better. Which is why I didn’t get involved.”

Error’s glitches were getting agitated again, but this was no time to be talking to voices.

“But now,” the golden eyes sharpened, “you’re living with the father of my son. My son who apparently thinks the world of you.” The static froze in surprise. “Though I don’t see why. Palette Roller is a good and honest child... But he’s still just a child. It’s entirely possible that you’ve been using him to get closer to Ink’s money.”

Error bit his tongues from another outburst, letting the glitches run rampant along his body. Trying to control them usually just led to pain. Dream was right to suspect why his starry-eyed son was so fond of Error. After all, he hated children. They were annoying, with no sense of boundaries, and always asking intrusive questions. Even he didn’t understand exactly what Palette Roller--and now Goth--saw in him since he’d done all he could to push them away.

Then, there was Dream’s accusation about Error being after Ink’s money. While insulting, it wasn’t entirely untrue. He was capable of making a fair amount of money on his own, though it did depend on what he was willing to risk. Which, at the moment, wasn't much.

“You wouldn’t be the first gold digger to pretend to be Palette Roller’s friend just so Ink would be willing to,” Dream turned his eyes away as emotion clouded them, “willing to do something he’s not interested in.” When Error failed react, Dream turned back and elaborated, “He’s ace, you know.”

“Of course I know.” Error scoffed haughtily, “If he wasn’t, I’d have never agreed to live with him.” 

Though the psychiatrist looked surprised, he recovered quickly. “He’s aro too. Getting him to be romantic was like pulling teeth.”

“Just why should I care about that?” He snorted disdainfully in response.

“I felt the affection you hold for him, if even for a moment.” Error’s eyelights narrow dangerously. “If what Palette thinks of you has any merit, then I’d like to spare you from any unnecessary heartbreak by warning you now.”

Static filled Error’s sockets but he forced it back, ignoring the pain through pure spite.

“You seem to be making some pretty big assumptions here, _doc_ ,” he spat the title. “What makes you think I care for romance at all, let alone from that idiot? You don’t know me at all.” Error took a step towards Dream, leaving little room between their faces. “For all you know, I might already have a lover that gives me all the romance and sex I can handle. Unlike you,” Dream flinched but bravely met the other’s cold glare, “some people don’t _need_ that stuff. Like Ink.”

Dream looked like he was about to interject but Error continued with a mad grin on his face.

“Ink’s orientation makes him an ideal sugar daddy, _you know_? All the luxury without any gross expectations.” The grin turned to a sneer, “Though now I’m a bit curious, Dreamer… Did you end the relationship cause it wasn’t often enough? Or because he couldn’t satisfy your needs?”

Dream’s face went bright yellow from indignant embarrassment but, before he could defend himself, a child floated had entered the hall.

“Uncle Ruru, it’s time for presents!” Goth nearly collided with Error, causing the programmer to lag. It happened when surprised under stress. “Uncle Ruru?”

“Daddy, uncle Ruru! C’mon or papa said he’s gonna open your presents.” Palette Roller's sudden arrival cleared the remaining tension as he poked his head into the hall.

“He better not!” Error recovered from the stress lag and shot Dream a final glare before stepping around Goth.

The sooner this party was over, the sooner he could relax under his roommate’s attentive gaze.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some additional info not covered in this fic; Ink was adopted shortly after finding himself in Blue's home. Dream started dating Ink their senior year and through the early college years. Palette Roller is 5 years old and Dream broke up with Ink before he found out.  
> Error was already in his early 20s when he met Blue (high school sr at the time) in an alley, no clear memories of his past. Any attempt to remember his past usually triggers a "crash". He wants to focus on his future rather than stress over his past.  
> I think that may be all the important background info for now.
> 
> Sorry the illustrations look a bit rough. Digital takes quite a bit of time and there's no guarantee I'll like it. xD If there's an illustration you'd like to see redone tho, lemme know and I might give it a shot. :3  
> The dialogue at the end was a bit of a hurdle... but I think it's acceptable...  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> For more of my artwork, relating to Undertale at least, you can visit my Instagram https://www.instagram.com/kinksoot/ .
> 
> This was part of what I call my Art-Full Planner challenge where I attempt to fill up a planner/agenda with art and writings. For this month (February) I decided to try and Illustrate and Write a Oneshot. Of course, as I started writing it, I realized it would work better as a three-parter. Subsequently, I was unable to finish all three parts in the shortest month of the year. But I am proud of myself for managing to finish part one.


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